


From fencing to football

by Moonyta



Category: DC Elseworlds, DC Universe Online, DCU, DCU (Comics)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - School, First Kiss, First Love, Fluff and Humor, Happy Ending, Idiots in Love, Love Confessions, Love/Hate, M/M, Male Homosexuality, Single Parents
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-06
Updated: 2018-09-08
Packaged: 2019-07-07 13:33:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,858
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15909264
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Moonyta/pseuds/Moonyta
Summary: Bruce Wayne, a successful millionaire businessman, has never been able to forget his college boyfriend. A NFL player with the most charming smile in the world, Clark “the man of Steel” Kent.





	1. Past

**Author's Note:**

  * For [siliceb](https://archiveofourown.org/users/siliceb/gifts).



> Hi there, this is the first time a work of mine is translate to english. My first language is the spanish and I'm doing a very bad work with the english, sorry for this.
> 
> Fortunately, I have help. My lovely translator Anthony Lauper and a WONDERFUL beta-reader : LawLu <3 https://kaizokunohime.tumblr.com/ So, thanks for the work and time you two have inverted in this history. 
> 
> I hope the readers can enjoy this <3

The giant billboard stood alongside the second floor of Metropolis’s highway. In it, a handsome man with astonishing blue eyes wore the uniform of the city’s American football team. He had a football in his hands and posed as if he was about to throw it; underneath it, in golden and red letters: Clark ‘the Man of Steel’ Kent prefers Kryptonite, the drink of champions.

Bruce Wayne tasted how the coffee he was drinking grew bitter in his mouth and, with disgust, emitted a low growl. His driver drove diligently, a silent man. The car took the next exit curve and got off the highway into the streets. The damn advertisement was everywhere. That year the Metropolis’s Meteors had won the Super Bowl once again, led by their unstoppable captain and quarterback.

Anyone who knew anything about sports knew the story behind the glory that enveloped that man. Tom Brady was the best NFL player until the rookie Clark Kent defeated him with a crushing lead at playoffs, taking the Meteors’ team for the first time in thirteen years back at the Big Game. Since then, Kent had become a trophy-making machine.

They parked in front of a private school’s door. Bruce got out of the car and went up the entrance stairs, where a beautiful blond woman opened the door and let him into the lobby. He only had to wait a couple of minutes for the bitter aftertaste in his mouth to disappear, replaced by a sweet sensation that enveloped him.

"Daddy!"

That call made him smile instantly, he kneeled down on the floor and opened his arms, counting the seconds it took his little one to throw himself to the embrace. Exactly seven seconds.

"Daddy, hello! Hello, dad"  little Richard Wayne rubbed his cheek against his father’s. He hid his face on the curve of his neck and inhaled his smell deeply  "I had an amazing day dad, they gave me chocolate cookies, I fell asleep in Latin and then we went out to play and we played football, and I was unstoppable Kent!"

Bruce laughed, he stopped hugging his kid and tousled his hair lovingly while standing up and then took his hand to walk to the exit.

"Latin classes aren’t for taking naps. You’re supposed to learn something from them" he reprimanded, not able to be truly annoyed at the child, although he frowned when he thought about what his son said last  "Richard, football is a barbarian sport."

"I want to be a barbarian! Can you buy me a bottle of  Kryptonite?" He glanced up, his eyes full of childish plea.

The wrinkles on Bruce’s forehead became more pronounced  "Absolutely not, that’s an energy drink for adults".

"But dad, my friend Jason said his dad bought him one and it gave him superpowers!"

"Oh yeah? Tell your friend Jason, that lying is not a superpower. I won’t buy you a Kryptonite and I don’t want you to try it if someone brings it to school, do you understand?"

"Yes, dad" Dick sighed, he knew when he had lost a battle. Disheartened, he got into the car.

The driver started driving them to their next destination. Dick put on his seatbelt and got out a notebook from his backpack.

 "In art class, I drew my favorite person in the whole wide world"  the child’s cheeks blushed faintly due to his excitement.

Bruce started smiling in advance, trying not to appear too eager to see the drawing. However, when his son showed him the work of art, the smile immediately disappeared.

"It’s the Man of Steel!"  if he could, the kid would have started to jump on his seat. Each time he talked about that football player, he was overcome with enthusiasm "And look, this is me grabbing his hand and this one over here is you, taking our picture. You see?"

Bruce squinted at the drawing to make out a brown spot at the corner of the paper. He had to summon all his willpower to be able to say something flattering about the picture.

"It is an outstandingly good drawing, son. I like the perspective."

"And do you like Clark? I sharpened my blue pencil to draw his eyes well".

Bruce pursed his lips and forced a smile that looked more like a muscular rictus.

"I love Clark"

Those words had Dick momentarily pleased. Everything related to the football player and his son was too intense. The kid was the biggest fan of the Meteor’s captain and it didn’t seem like a fleeting interest. That fact was giving him a stomachache; it wasn’t that he hated the sport, he just hated Clark Kent. They had gone to university together, in those golden years he was part of the college fencing team while Kent was a farmer with a football scholarship. His only merit was his ability to throw a ball, big deal.

They never had a good relationship, especially since Clark had rejected Bruce when he had found the courage to confess. With time, they went their separate ways, Bruce had married a beautiful Romanian woman who, after giving birth to a weak unhealthy baby boy, filed for divorce making it clear that she never wanted to be a mother and that the baby was the biggest mistake in her life. Bruce signed the divorce papers without hesitation, he didn’t even care that she took part of his fortune, the only thing that mattered to him was to take her out of his son’s life, as soon as possible.

For business reasons Bruce had decided to move temporarily to Metropolis, and he stayed because of Dick. When they moved, Dick’s health had notably become better; the nice warm weather was the perfect fertilizer for his little sprout to grow strong and healthy. So it didn’t take long for Bruce to buy a luxurious large flat near the city’s big central park.

 "We’re home, Alfred"

"Welcome back, master Wayne"

The butler received him with two aspirins and a glass of mineral water with lemon slices swimming amid the bubbles. Bruce took the pills and drank the water with urgency, feeling grateful.

"Hey Alfie"  Dick’s greeting always consisted of an affectionate hug that made the man he considered a grandfather smile. "Look, I made a drawing of my most favorite person in the whole wide world"

When Alfred saw the picture, he shot a glance at Bruce, who simply shook his head and walked away, fed up, not wanting to know more about that.

"Can we put it on the fridge’s door?"  Dick ran to the kitchen, the door of the refrigerator was already full of other drawings. "We can remove this one of dad"

"I think there are already enough drawings of Mr. Kent on this poor refrigerator, how about you try to draw something else next time?"  Alfred let Dick do whatever his heart desired.

Dick considered the suggestion for a moment while he used the magnets to place his new work of art.  "Uhm, no." He smiled, happy with the glorious sight of his fridge and ran away, making a pause by the kitchen counter where he stole a piece of cinnamon bread.

While he listened to his son’s footsteps running down the hall, Bruce loosened his tie with a few fingers and took it off, and tossed it on the bed next to his coat. He took off his Italian shoes and he put his arms behind his back and arched it as he stretched a bit to relax his muscles.

He never turned off his laptop, although he sometimes forgot where he left it. Fortunately, he had Alfred, who always put it back on his desk.

"Dick, start your homework!"  He reminded him from inside his bedroom and got a vague sound as an answer that could’ve meant anything. He turned on the laptop and sat in his comfortable leather executive chair. Quickly a bunch of notifications appeared over the Wayne Industries’ logo that was his default wallpaper.

“Report: Performance of…”

“Projects and funds for fiscal year…”

“Invitation: Charity Event of…”

“New Wayne Resort opens its doors… “

“Appointment: Breakfast with Clark Kent in…”

His brows furrowed so much they almost became one. That last message didn’t even make sense. He clicked it and his video player opened.

“Hello Bruce”

Selina, his personal assistant, she looked gorgeous as she smiled at her phone’s camera.

“I tried calling you on your cellphone but you didn’t answer, the shareholders chose Clark Kent as the face for the advertising campaign of our new car models. Apparently Mr. Kent has a lot of influence over male audience.” She laughed and her bright dark eyes stared intently at the camera. “I checked your schedule for tomorrow and you have the morning free after taking Dick to school, Kent’s agent will make sure he’s there on time. Go over your notes, I sent you the address where the meeting will be held. Ciao darling.”

The video ended and the player closed on its own, but Bruce was still looking at the screen without blinking, as if it was a portal to his past.

-:-

The fencing team of the University of Metropolis practiced for two hours five days a week, that day was the fifth time Bruce saw that football player seated on the benches watching the training with profound interest. He knew who that man was, not because he had spoken to him before, but because Clark Kent wasn’t the kind of guy who would go unnoticed in a crowd, especially if he was wearing his football gear and uniform. He even had the helmet between his hands as if he had left in the middle of his own practice just to be on time at the gym.

"We’re waiting Mr. Wayne." he instructor came into his field of view and reminded him that he should finish putting on his left glove, then he took his mask and walked to the piste as a fellow student gave him his foil. He checked its stability by moving it while getting at the starting line.

When Bruce Wayne got on the strip, everyone in the gym remained silent and were engrossed in the elegant presence of the fencer. When in position, Bruce did a graceful _rassemblemet_ to salute his opponent and the instructor who was in this case also the referee for the match. His posture was perfect, his balance so natural that he made it seem like that sport was the easiest in the world.

" _En garde!_  " The instructor made the first call, the fencers put on their masks and got into the according stance " _Prêts? "_  That second word put them on high alert, the duel was about to start. Bruce took a deep breath and relaxed his stance: straight back, bent knees, feet apart, blade up and to the outside in the sixte line, point angled to be higher than his hand. " _Allez!"_

The moment the order was said, the assault began. Bruce advanced and made an _attaque au fer_ , creating constant blows against his opponent’s blade, who made an excellent work of countering the action trying not to give up much terrain to Ruthless Wayne. Spectators held their breath as Bruce performed a polished _changez-froisse_ , creating leverage by sliding along his adversary’s blade from the foil’s tip to the base or _forte_ with firm pressure. His opponent made a step back and tried to engage the _contre-attaque_ , but before he could move a muscle, Bruce did a _balestra_ , the favorite movement of a spectator, which consisted of a jump forward with an _appel_ , followed by a lunge. Bruce’s foil arched when the tip made a hit over his opponent’s heart and the crowd gave a round of applause at his triumph.

With an “ _Arrêt_ ” from the instructor, the bout ended.

No one approached him to give their congratulations, that kind of social protocol was lost the first week when the Wayne heir made clear that he disliked any kind of flattery and physical contact. Now his classmates refrained from anything else and just cheered for him in his best performances and let him withdraw from the limelight.

"You were amazing"

The friendly voice took him by surprise, he had to turn just to be able to see through his mask who was talking; his heart skipped a beat when he saw Clark Kent in front of him, a radiant smile on his face. He didn’t know how to react.

"Oh, sorry, I didn’t introduce myself. I’m Clark Kent, I’m part of the football team, we share some classes on Mondays and Wednesdays"

 While the jock offered his hand, Bruce was still unable to overcome the visual impact that the bright smile had on him. He forced himself to accept the greeting; this guy was just a classmate, there wasn’t any reason to feel intimidated by his presence. He was used to shaking hands with very important people, and Clark Kent was not important.

The moment he took the hand stretched out to him, he dropped his foil onto the floor, which made him bend down to grab it at the same time Clark did, their heads met with a bang.

"Ouch! Good thing you still have your helmet on"

The infectious laugh from the football player made him chuckle, still holding his hand, the friendly greeting had become an excuse to maintain the physical contact. However, Bruce couldn’t keep hiding behind his mask and had to let Clark go so he could take it off. The removal of the head protection left his hair slightly messy. Then he accepted the foil from the other’s hands.

"Thank you" Those were the first words he said to him. It was a simple yet educated way to show his appreciation  but the smile in the other man’s lips grew bigger. He didn’t think that smile could become more charming, but it did.

"Hey, would you like to come to one of my practices?" Kansas boy made the offer as casually as he could, as if it wasn’t a big deal, but Bruce could see his nervousness in the way he hit his helmet against his thigh.

"I do not like football"

His response killed the mood, the room turned colder, and the light in Clark’s eyes disappeared while his smile faltered.

"Oh… Okay", he scratched the back of his neck not knowing what else to say.

Clark Kent was the tallest person he had ever met, his physical constitution was to be envied. Bruce wondered if those shoulders were as broad without the pads he used under his jersey. That line of thought made him imagine more of that body without clothes, he surely had an incredible firm toned abdomen. He cleared his throat and looked away.

"I must return to my training". The jock kicked softly some invisible dirt.

"Right", Bruce glanced at his face, it looked like Clark wanted to say something more, but in the end he just raised his hand as goodbye and left.

Although he was sure he wouldn’t see him back there again, the football player made an appearance the next day, and each day after that. Sometimes he would approach and start a conversation with small talk, which didn’t have good results; other times he would just smile and then leave walking backwards without taking his eyes off of the fencer until he ran into something or someone; and then one day he just wasn’t there. It was impossible for Bruce to concentrate at practice, he failed most of his moves and, for the first time ever, he lost. He’d never felt so frustrated before; he wasn’t used to failing, much less failing at something he had mastered; he had practiced fencing since he was six years old and now he was making foolish and irrational mistakes.

Furious, he walked away from the practice area, he heard the instructor call out to him but he didn’t mind him. He took the mask off his head and threw it to the side. Without stopping and still wearing the full white fencing uniform, he walked with long firm strides all the way from the gym to the football field.

The team was in the middle of training, trying out a new play, his eyes focused on number twelve, Clark Kent, and went straight to him.

"Hey! What do you think you’re doing?! Get out of the field, boy! They’re gonna crush you. Are you listening? Get out!"

The coach’s assistant tried to stop him, but Bruce quickened his pace, the players didn’t notice how someone else had entered the field and the play continued on. One of the players had the football and ran at full speed, others tried to stop him but the runner was more skillful and avoided them effortlessly until suddenly Bruce was in front of him. The assistant closed his eyes, not wanting to see how the newcomer was tackled and thrown to the grass. The overall reaction was the same, a simultaneous “oh” followed by a long “uh”. Bruce had crouched and, the moment he felt the runner try to jump over him, stood up quickly and forcefully to make the player rotate in the air and fall hard on the ground, causing him to let go of the football and bringing the play to an abrupt end. Everyone stayed still while Bruce picked up the ball, they made way for him while watching him in disbelief. He reached Clark and shoved the pigskin onto his chest.

"Why didn’t you go to practice?" He tried looking at those blue eyes behind the visor. He was seriously pissed off.

Kent needed a moment to process what was happening; it seemed surreal that Bruce was right there with his fencing uniform. He stood out like a white rose, that’s right, a white rose covered in thorns.

"Bruce, what… what are you doing here? I thought you didn’t like football", he took hold of the ball still pressing against his chest.

"I did not come to watch your barbarian game, I came so you could explain why weren’t you at the gym. It’s awfully rude to miss a date without notifying beforehand". The millionaire crossed his arms and berated him with his gaze.

Clark didn’t know how to answer, but his teammates eloquently mocked him with catcalls and double entendres.

"Kent! Take your boyfriend out of the field or you’re out of the next game!". The coach’s assistant blew his whistle hard and tried to restore order.

"Sorry, Coach!", Clark took off his helmet and rushed out of the field with Bruce in hand before things got worse.

A couple of minutes later they were under the bleachers, out of curious stares, guarded by the shadow from the metal and wood structure. Bruce was still in a bad mood, he had a demanding expression on his face and Clark had yet to put his thoughts in order.

"This is the worst place to talk, Clark Kent. I know you lack diplomacy skills, but this place is terrible. Now tell me, why didn’t you come to the gym?"

The boy from Kansas couldn’t help but laugh. Bruce narrowed his eyes as a warning.

"I fail to see what’s so funny, Kent. I lost my combat because of you. You can’t make me get used to your presence and then simply be absent, you’ll alter the order of things. You were supposed to be there like always".

"Why?". His question baffled the Gotham’s prince, and he didn’t hesitate to grasp that little advantage  "Why, Bruce? Why am I supposed to be there every day?" He shortened the distance between them until Bruce had to move backwards until his back ran into a large metal beam, he immediately put his hands on both sides of the fencer’s face and reduced all space between them when he leaned over the other, imposing his physical dominance. "I’ve been there on a daily basis and it didn’t seem to matter to you, sometimes you wouldn’t even look at me"

"Don’t be absurd Kent, I noticed you every single day, it’s not my fault you don’t have any conversation topic that doesn’t involve the weather. <<The weather’s nice today, isn’t it?>> <<They said it’s gonna rain>> <<It’s really hot outside today>> " he mimicked the approaches the other had made and smiled satisfied when he perceived the slight blush on the jock’s cheeks.  "Anyhow, I want you there tomo…"

Clark’s mouth shut him up with a kiss and the world spun so fast he had to close his eyes and cling to the number twelve in the football player’s chest. Those lips were warm, claiming him gently but firmly; he obediently opened his mouth and felt his knees buckle as Clark Kent’s tongue met his. The soft wet sensation was heavenly, his heart pounded so hard it deafened him. That was not a kiss, it was hundreds of fireworks exploding simultaneously through every inch of their bodies.

There was no way they would end their kiss all of a sudden, they had to slow it down little by little with short kisses, their caresses became shooting stars, dying out with each second that passed.

Clark moved, he took a step back and ran his fingers through his hair, nervous, watching him in a strange manner. Bruce could read that stare "We’re gonna play at a championship, I need to spend more time training, I wouldn’t have missed your practice if it wasn’t something important". He raised his hand with the intention of touching the other man, but the gesture died before it happened.  "I can stay in this university because I play great, I don’t have any other way to graduate so I need to focus".

"I understand. Good luck in the championship, Kent"

When Bruce turned around uninterested, Clark felt as if someone had dumped a cold bucket of water on his head. Didn’t he kissed him back just a little while ago?

"Hey, wait!" He blocked his way.  "Is that all, you’re not going to say anything else?"

The fencer’s face was a mask that showed total self-control, it was unnerving.

"I’d like you to come to the gym whenever possible for you. I don’t like losing"

Clark shook his head in disbelief, and gave a smile of resignation. Being in love with a guy that lacked any form of empathy and possibly had Asperger’s was not an easy task.

"I may not be able to go for a while"

"Then I’ll come see you"

"I thought you didn’t like football"

 "I don’t"

He wasn’t sure if he was seeing things or if Bruce had smiled before leaving, soon after someone came to look for him and take him back to the training session.

-:-

Night had fallen over Metropolis, the businessman noticed he had stared at the idle screen on his laptop for the last couple of hours. He couldn’t stop thinking about that memory and the fact that things between them should’ve just ended underneath those bleachers, maybe that way it wouldn’t be as painful, maybe that way he wouldn’t feel such a deep hatred towards Clark Kent. Why had he kissed him just to reject him later?

He closed his eyes and rubbed them in frustration. How the hell was he supposed to negotiate with the person that broke his heart in college?

"Daddy?"

Dick’s voice was the magic spell that banished the shadows that roamed in his mind. The kid was standing by his bedroom door and the moment he made sure his father wasn’t busy, he entered full of confidence and smiles.

"Dad, Alfie says that dinner’s ready"

Bruce spun his executive chair so he could be directly in front of his child, he opened his arms and welcomed him into his lap. The light weight of that little birdie comforted his heart, Richard was he reason he woke up every morning, he was the light that saved him from his own darkness. Longing for more of that warmth, he hugged the child and stuck his nose against his fragrant hair, it smelled of sweetness and innocence.

The kid laughed at the gesture, and his intuitive and noble nature made him say the words the adult desperately needed to hear.

"I love you, daddy"

Bruce answered with a loving kiss, it was hard to accept that for a long time the only thing he wanted was to hear those three words from someone else. But now he didn’t need it anymore, there was a more important person in his life, someone worth fighting for. He was determined, he would go to that ridiculous breakfast, he’d see Clark Kent face to face without feeling a thing and he’d even get an autograph for Dick.

"Let’s go Richard, it’s time for dinner"

"And can I have a Kryptonite?"

Bruce rolled his eyes.

"Absolutely not"


	2. Present

 

 

“Sorry, could you repeat what you just said?”

Bruce Wayne looked at the friendly blond woman with brown eyes and an apologetic smile. “We can’t allow Richard to be in class today. We’re very sorry”.

The woman’s voice echoed in his head, he stared at her for a while and then looked at his son. He was grabbing his hand and had his backpack on, his little face full of tiny red spots.

“Listen, Miss. I assure you it’s nothing contagious, it’s a simple allergic reaction to an energy drink”, he argued trying to remain calm. “Besides, it’s not as if I gave him said energy drink, he took it from the fridge in the middle of the night without permission”. He gave Dick a stern look and then returned his attention back to the woman.  “I assure you I won’t buy that kind of garbage again”.

“But Alfie loves Kryptonite, and Clark Kent too!” Dick complained and scratched his cheek.

The school monitor seemed to be beginning to judge Bruce’s parenting capabilities as she put her hands on her hips.

“Listen, Mr. Wayne, I can’t risk an epidemic. Take your son to the doctor and when you have medical proof that what he has isn’t contagious, we’ll let him resume his studies. In the meantime, he should go back home and rest”

“I can’t take him back home, I have an important meeting in a couple of minutes”

“Then send him back with your driver, I’ll help you get a taxi to your meeting”

“I’m not going to leave my son alone with the driver, do you know how high the child abduction rate is? Most cases occur at drop-off and pick-up hours of schools”

“Well, I’m sorry I can’t be of more help Mr. Wayne”. The woman had stopped acting nice, it was clear she wasn’t going to budge.

Back in the car, Dick couldn’t contain his euphoria.

“I’ll never go back to school!” He threw his backpack to the car floor and tried to jump on the seat, but hit his head.

His father’s hand grabbed him and made the kid sit properly while he rushed to fasten his seatbelt before the child could start moving again.  “Oh, I’ll see to it that you return to school, Richard”

It was too early to already have a headache Bruce thought as he rested his head on the backrest and took a deep breath. Of all mornings, of all days, why was this the one where everything had to go wrong? He considered the idea of postponing the appointment, but if he did, Kent would surely think that he was running away from the encounter, and he couldn’t let that happen. He wouldn’t yield any kind of power to Kent.

“Daddy, look!”

Dick had unbuckled his seatbelt and lowered the window on his side, his head sticking out of the vehicle.

“RICHARD, NO!”  the sheer terror from seeing his child in such a dangerous position, made his heart drop to his stomach. He pulled him firmly back inside. “What do you think you’re doing?! That’s dangerous! Never do that again! You hear me? NEVER!”

A deep silence hung in the air after his shouts, he realized he had let his tension get the better of him and lashed out at the wrong person. Dick’s gaze held a deep regret, his pretty eyes became full with tears and a sob made his lips quiver.

“No Richard, don’t cry. I’m sorry, I’m so very sorry, son”. He pulled him close gently and hugged him, but the kid had already burst into tears. That sound never failed to mortify him, he needed an escape from what was happening, and the only one he had was to turn the problem to a solution.  “Hey, would you like to meet Clark Kent in person?”

The words immediately worked like a charm. The sobs stopped and the kid raised his head, giving his father a doubtful look. ─ Clark? The Man of Steel?

The man nodded.

“Really? When?”

Bruce smiled, more relaxed. “Today” he got a tissue and began wiping his son’s nose “we’re going to have breakfast with him and you’ll be able to take a picture and ask for an autograph”

Dick felt how the notice gave him goosebumps. He grabbed a handful of his father’s clothes and let out a big high-pitched scream of pure joy, his eyes dilated from the strong endorphin rush.

“Breathe, Richard”

 

-:-

 

The gardens of the grand hotel Imperial Plaza were covered in a nice foliage, the gardeners created complex designs with the branches from plum trees; the color of its flowers – white, pink and violet – gave the place an elegant spring atmosphere. Bruce looked around in contemplation, watching how the tables were set in such a manner that the diners and guests could appreciate the natural scene.

“Mr. Kent is waiting for you over there” The host kindly signaled towards the right side of the garden, but Bruce refused to look over there.

He wasn’t ready, it was a stupid decision to accept that foolish breakfast! Selina could’ve sealed the deal in his stead, it wasn’t necessary for the CEO to take care of such simple tasks like that one. That chain of thought had brought his anxiety up again, but the feeling of Richard’s hand in his grounded him enough to focus. “ _Business, it’s just business.”_ He repeated to himself and finally found the resolve necessary for the confrontation.

When he looked at Clark Kent again, he wondered where had all the air in that place gone to.

The Meteors’ captain stood up immediately when he saw them approaching, the years had only highlighted all his best assets and given more shine to his blue eyes, the straight lines of his face portrayed a serene handsome man.

_“Do not smile, please do not smile”_

“Good morning Mr. Wayne” He smiled and politely extended his hand to him.

_“Damn you, Kent”_

Bruce accepted the greeting coldly and mechanically, he tried looking at anything else that wasn’t the player’s face, but everything about him was just as fascinating.

“Mr. Kent” he cleared his throat.

 “Call me Clark”

“I prefer we stick to the protocol”

There was a fire behind Bruce’s eyes and Clark was sure it wasn’t a good omen.

“You really are Clark Kent”

A soft voice, a little more of a whisper, broke the bubble that started forming around the two men. At some point of that brief greeting, Richard had let go of his father’s hand and slowly approached Clark, silently, without even blinking. Now, his little hand touched the right arm of that living legend. The thought of actually touching the throwing arm of the Man of Steel shook Dick with a wave of overwhelming emotion, but he knew he should not shout, his father had warned him in the car.

“Hey, hello” Clark pet the kid’s dark hair, placing his hand on top of his head. “Who are you?”

“Richard is my son”

Clark was taken aback, he looked at Bruce, confused.

“I’m Richard Wayne, your biggest fan in the whole universe, I know everything about you! You are six foot three, you weight two hundred twenty-seven pounds, you have played at seven Super Bowls and you’ve won all seven, you have a record of twenty-seven thousand passing yards and you run forty yards in four seconds. You like apple pie and your birthday is on February 29th. Will you invite me to your birthday party? I’ll invite you to mine!”

Richard’s cheeks were completely red, he had spoken without stopping for air and it was clear he had impressed both adults. Clark couldn’t help but laugh.

 “Gosh, I’m very flattered. I’d love for you to come to my birthday party”

 “Really?!” When Clark nodded, Dick couldn’t contain his scream of pure joy anymore.

“Richard, keep your voice down, calm down” Bruce feared his son would have a heart attack, his chest went up down quickly, like that of a scared bird, but Dick wasn’t scared, he was overjoyed. “Come here, Richard” He took his hand and pulled him to his side, but his son’s eyes were still focused on Clark. “Let’s go have a seat, here, drink some water”

Bruce sat in front of Clark and left Dick in one of the lateral chairs, in between them.

“So, you’ll allow your son to come to my birthday party? You and your wife can come too” He took a chance, hoping it wasn’t obvious to Bruce he was trying to get information.

The president of Wayne Enterprises gave him a withering look but didn’t answer. The waiter in charge of their table got closer and served coffee for both of them, he took their order and left. For a moment, both adults prepared their coffee in silence. Clark had it with milk and as a really sweet latte, while Bruce preferred it strong with almost no sugar in it.

“Let’s talk business. The development team in Wayne Industries has been working on the subject of green transportation, and we’ve come up with an eco-friendly product. We want your face to represent our new line of electric cars, Mr. Kent” Bruce tried to redirect their conversation, after all, he wasn’t there to socialize. “Our product is mainly focused on adult and young men. We are aware that, generally speaking, women and children are the most concerned with climate change and the environment, so we aim to make a change in men. We want to show them that clean energy can be as powerful and efficient, if not more, as other non-renewable sources like petroleum”

Dick stared at Clark with the same fascination Clark stared at Bruce. It was adorable, the way he spoke seriously about business with that elegant and controlled voice as he spread butter on a piece of bread for his small child and draped the napkin on top of his legs.

“I think it’s admirable. I’m especially interested in projects that have a positive impact in the world”

Bruce smirked, humorless. “You are wishful thinker, Mr. Kent”

“Says the one who’s investing in the creation of electric cars. Then, when can I read the contract? You could bring it to my birthday party. You didn’t answer me, will you and your wife come?” Clark raised the coffee cup to his mouth.

“My mom left when I was little. She and dad are divorced”

The football player had to make an extraordinary effort to swallow the coffee in his mouth instead of spitting it. He put his cup down and stared at Dick with deep regret, it wasn’t his intention to bring a bad memory to the kid’s mind. His curiosity had gone too far.

“I’m so sorry to hear that, I’m your mom still loves you even if she’s not with you.” He extended his hand with the intention of comforting the child with his touch, but stopped the moment Bruce stabbed a biscuit with his fork less than an inch away from his fingers.

“Richard knows his mother loves him dearly and that he didn’t have anything to do with the fact that our marriage didn’t work out”

The child nodded disheartened, his eyes stuck on the table. It was obvious that even though they had talked about it, Dick still felt responsible for his mother’s absence; he was at a phase where he asked himself what was wrong with him, why didn’t his momma love him.

“Hey Richard…” Clark started speaking.

“My friends call me Dick”  The little boy pointed out with a soft smile on his face, looking at Clark.

“Dick, would you like to come with me to my training session after breakfast? I’ll meet up with a friend on the field, maybe you know him, some call him the Flash”

The boy’s face brightened up again.

“Barry Allen? The fastest runner of all times? The runner of Metropolis’s Meteors?!”

“Yeah! And you’ll be able to meet the rest of the team too” Clark laughed, fascinated with the kid’s hopeful eyes. He loved children, even if he didn’t have any of his own.

“Stop offering stuff to my son, if you haven’t noticed, he’s only nine years old and can’t decide for himself his social agenda. I’m his father and I decide what he can or can’t do, and he won’t go anywhere with you without my supervision. Besides, he’s suffering from an allergic reaction”

“But dad, I’m almost not itching anymore” He smiled and scratched himself.

“Can we put aside protocols now Bruce?”

The football player’s smile and the persistent voice of his son irritated him. He clenched his teeth, leaned on the table with his left elbow and held his head in his hand. It was fortunate enough that the waiter arrived at that moment and put the meals in their respective places.

Clark immediately cut a piece of his apple pie and chewed it, pleased. Dick had asked for a pancake but when he saw Clark’s plate, he regretted his choice.

“Yours looks yummier than mine. Want to swap?”

“Absolutely not!”

“Of course”

Bruce and Clark answered at the same time.

They swapped dishes and then Dick saw his father’s meal, a couple of egg whites with bacon.

“I think I want something more savory, daddy…”

Without letting him finish his sentence, Bruce immediately and reluctantly swapped his plate with his son. In the end, he had in front of him Clark’s bitten pie, when he noticed the way the player looked at him, he guessed his intentions and squinted his eyes as a warning “Don’t even think about it, Ken”

To lower a bit the table’s energy, Bruce started eating in silence, the puff pastry in the pie was crunchy and a little savory, while the apple filling had a delicious mild bittersweet flavor. He had to pretend he wasn’t enjoying the pastry too much.

“Do you still practice fencing? I remember you were amazing at it”. Clark put some syrup on his pancake. “Those were good times, weren’t they?”

Bruce’s fork scratched the porcelain plate.

“No” he answered both questions in a single strong response.

How did Clark expect him to agree with that? College hadn’t been a good time for him, far from his hometown, surrounded by people more interested in his money than him and, of course, being rejected by the only guy he genuinely liked. He wanted to ask why, why had he refused when Bruce had offered him everything? But they weren’t boys anymore, and it was clear that for Clark it had been meaningless. He took a sip from his coffee to suppress the sigh that was trying to escape from his mouth.

“You went together to school? Elementary school?” Dick was trying to cut his bacon with a fork, but he didn’t have good skills with cutlery yet, so he grabbed a piece between his fingers and gave it a bite.

“Not quite, we went to the same college” Clark bent over the table to help the kid cut the rest of his food. He noticed from the corner of his eye how Bruce was watching his every movement, he really was an overprotective parent. “Didn’t he ever tell you we were boyfriends?”

Dick slouched on his seat, completely in awe at that statement, but the most abrupt reaction was the millionaire’s, whose shaking hands spilled coffee over him in an uncontrollable tremor.

“Enough. Do not talk to my son about that. We were not boyfriends”. He grabbed a napkin in a haste and started to dry his shirt.

“Of course we were, I was madly in love with him, but he was dating a girl he never told me about” Clark was still talking with Dick, but his gaze was focused on Bruce.

That information baffled him. What the hell was Kent talking about?

“I wasn’t dating anybody!” Bruce’s fist made the tableware tremble with a hit to the table. He had to take a deep breath and try to calm himself down, all morning he had been trying to remain calm, to keep in check a wave of emotions that poisoned him. He had spent years building a robust dam in his mind, sturdy enough to contain a wild river of overwhelming feelings that drowned him if they got too out of control. “You are a miserable man, Clark Kent” Blinded by rage he grabbed his son’s hand and pulled him to the exit “Let’s go”

“Dad, wait! Wait!” Dick tried freeing his hand, he didn’t understand what just happened, but he didn’t want to leave. “Why are we running away?”

The question brought him to a halt.

Why was he running away? What was he running away from?

He let go of Dick’s hand and slowly turned around. His son looked frightened and a waiter was staring at them, who quickly made the wise decision of getting back to work. Clark was standing a couple of feet away, he had followed them.

“Listen, son. Could you go to that table over there, sit down and wait for a little bit?” Bruce kneeled in front of the child and stroked his hair.

Dick nodded and obeyed by walking to an empty table, pulling a chair and sitting on it, still mindful of the adults.

“He’s a wonderful kid, Bruce” He offered a hand to help the other man get up, but Bruce brushed it off with disdain. “I know I have no right to have this kind of conversation in front of him”.

Bruce didn’t answer, instead instructed him with his eyes to follow him back to the table where they were having breakfast moments ago. He sun had moved and now shone from it’s zenith, creating a harmony between light and shadows from the leaves and branches of the plum trees. The businessman sat down, trying to get a hold of the situation, he couldn’t keep running away from the past, from him. How long had it been already?

“What’s all of this about, Clark?” For the first time in years, he looked directly at the blue eyes that, for a long time, had been his only weakness. “Why was it so important to talk about the past? Did you agree to this meeting to get on my nerves? You were correct, had no right to talk about this in front of my child”. At least that last part seemed to make the other feel some kind of remorse.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t think you’d react so…”

“Violently?” An ice-cold smile appeared in his face. “And what did you expect? You take advantage of a business meeting and you transform it into a parade of personal affairs. To top it off, you made me look like the bad guy in front of my son. We didn’t have a relationship, never did. And you know why? Because of you; you left me standing in the middle of your damn football field with that stupid bouquet of roses. I had never bought roses for anyone before” his words came out forced and bitter.

For the first time ever, Clark wasn’t smiling and the blue in his eyes looked cloudy. When he spoke again, his voice was serene.

“Oliver Queen told me you were dating someone else. Someone of your social status and that I was just a fun experiment. He made me realize I had nothing to offer you. I was young, proud, and dumb. It took me years to understand you didn’t need me to offer anything. You never asked for anything I couldn’t give” Clark changed seats so they could be closer, he put his hand near Bruce’s, daring to barely touch him with his fingertips.

Bruce avoided the contact. The comprehension of what had occurred appalled him. What was the point of having this conversation? Okay, Oliver had always been jealous of his relationship with Clark and at least he now understood a little better what had happened.

“Why did you thought I was dating someone else? Did you always believe all the hearsay about me? Did you reject me for a rumor from Oliver Queen?” Bruce felt suffocated, he couldn’t believe what was happening, being there, acting once again like some foolish emotional teen.

“I saw you kiss that girl, Thalia, and I saw her reject the bouquet of roses you afterwards tried to give to me” the football player stood up, his voice had grown low and dark. It was clear that Bruce wasn’t the only one that had spent many years of his life obsessing over the past. Clark took a couple of steps away from his chair and, with his back towards Bruce, looked up at the sky to feel the sun in his skin, then gazed back at Wayne utterly mortified. “No one told me that part of the story, Bruce. I lived it”

The moment Clark finished speaking, a dense fog dissipated from the mind of the intelligent man born in Gotham. Suddenly and effortlessly, things that had happened made sense. Each piece of the puzzle that was their past fell perfectly in place inside his head.

“Sit, Clark. Come on, sit. You have to know the rest of the story you thought you saw” He signaled the chair in front of him and patiently waited until his company found enough motivation to sit down and listen to the part of the story he didn’t know about.

 

-:-

 

It was mid-fall of their second year in college, a festive mood flooded the campus, the holidays were near and the college’s football team had just won the championship. There were still warm days, like that Thursday.

“Wipe that goofy smile off your face”. Bruce put a hand on Clark’s face to stop looking at his absurd delighted and loving facial expression. The bed sheets were tangled around their bodies, still hot and aroused.

The day before when Clark had come back with the enormous trophy in his hands. He had caused a big scene when he walked straight to Bruce in the middle of fencing practice. He took Bruce’s mask off and kissed him passionately in front of everyone, he then convinced the fencer to go out for a couple of drinks with “the guys” that in reality were a bunch of gorillas and troublemakers, all of them part of the actual champion team. The celebration had ended in the fencer’s bed, and Clark had ended many times between his legs, three during the night and one more after a great breakfast of a bunch of cookies and a glass of water.

Bruce was exhausted and ecstatic. He felt how the Kansas boy started to kiss his hand and in response he looked at something else, there was something poetic and romantic about their bundles clothes on the floor: his white fencer uniform and the dirty uniform from the victorious football player. He had felt ridiculous last night going around drinking in those clothes but Clark hadn’t given him a chance to think clearly. They didn’t have a formal relationship, to put it simply, their approaches had gradually become more and more daring until the inevitable happened and now there they were, desire satisfied.

“Are you proud of me? I brought the trophy for you”. Clark took the hand that was trying to push him away in his. Bruce’s profile was perfect. “Why are you always so reserved? Last night you weren’t as quiet”

A pillow attack made him laugh and Bruce took the chance to push Clark to the side and sit up on the bed, putting his feet on the floor. Clark didn’t lose a moment and quickly sat behind his partner, hugging him, putting his chin on Bruce’s shoulder.

“Do you want to go eat something together?” Clark kissed the bare skin of that shoulder.

“No, I have something to do today. But we can see each other after six” Bruce tilted his head to the side to bask in the attention of those lips, which trembled in a soft annoyed moan against his skin. “What’s wrong?”

“I have a meeting with the team for the close of the season, it’s the last one before the holidays so I can’t miss it, but I’ll be free at six thirty. We can meet up at the field at that time”

“Yes, okay” Bruce touched with the tips of his right toes the number twelve on Clark’s jersey, which laid on the floor as Bruce smiled softly.  “Hey farmer-boy… I’m proud of you”

In that instant, neither of them could know that that Thursday fall afternoon their relationship would end before it even began.

Bruce had an important date with Thalia Al Ghul, the gorgeous girl with exotic beauty was her occasional sexual partner. It had been great up until the moment when he met Clark Kent, so if he wanted a serious relationship with the jock he first had to end all relationship with Thalia. The problem was that she was resentful after months of abandonment and had been denying him time to talk. The only choice she had left him was to set her a trap, make her believe it was a romantic date, that way he could talk face to face with her and end things cleanly. He didn’t want Thalia to be a complication in his future.

Unfortunately, Clark had witnessed their little exchange but hadn’t heard a thing, misinterpreting the situation, the kiss he had seen wasn’t anything but a farewell and that roses bouquet had always been a gift for Clark, Thalia just took it for a moment to admire it and then returned it with contempt to Bruce’s hands. No woman liked to see the flowers the person their ex was dumping her for would receive.

 

-:-

 

“And when I went to the football field and asked you to go out with me…”

“I rejected you…”

The weight of those words could be felt in the air and both of them looked away. Listening to the truth wasn’t as liberating as they thought, in fact, it was devastating to think about all they had missed out on for something so insignificant. Their lives would never be the same, but deep down they both knew things happened the way they were supposed to.

“Anyway, the past won’t change” Bruce tried shaking off some bread crumbs from the table, feeling the need to move even if just a little.

 “But we can change the present”

When Clark took his hand, warmth spread throughout Bruce’s chest.

“What are you talking about, Kent?” he reluctantly pulled back his hand. “Life doesn’t work that way, you can’t assume things between us are still the same as they were in college. People change and feelings do too”

Sometimes Clark had the incredible talent of making puppy eyes and Bruce didn’t know if he did it on purpose or not.

“Of course, I’m not saying you’re still in love with me. I just… I’d like for us to be friends” he held tightly to Bruce’s hand and smiled softly “You know?  Tomorrow’s my birthday and I really, really would like for you and Dick to come to my party”

A sad laugh shook Bruce, he felt melancholic, he couldn’t help it, and there was a similar feeling in the athlete’s eyes. At least he finally felt more at peace, as if a concrete slab was lifted off his shoulders, air seemed lighter.

“Don’t be absurd, Kent”

“I’m serious, come to my party. Let me see you again”

Those puppy eyes were back again. He couldn´t resist it.

“Will you sign the contract with my company?”

The football player nodded solemnly and made a cross over his heart. Bruce smiled, that man was still like a child.

“Then it’d be a pleasure for Richard and me to accompany you at your birthday party”

They shook hands like they did that first time in the gym, keeping the contact longer that it was needed.

“Are you gonna marry now?”  Dick looked at them as serious as he could. “Honestly dad, stop playing with my feelings, I’m just nine years old”.

**Author's Note:**

> Hey there! As the translator of this story I hoped you enjoyed reading it, it was possible thanks to the great beta-reader LawLu and the author of the original story, Moonyta. It was originally in spanish, and if you know the language, please consider also reading that version.


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